


if heaven and hell decide (that they both are satisfied)

by WhatsATerrarium



Category: The AM Archives (Podcast), The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Character Death Fix, F/M, Flashbacks, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spoilers for The AM Archives, Vampire Turning, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatsATerrarium/pseuds/WhatsATerrarium
Summary: He asked her once, when he found out, if she needed to breathe.
Relationships: Joan Bright/Owen Thompson | Agent Green, Owen Thompson | Agent Green & Ellie Wadsworth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14
Collections: BrightGreen Fanfics





	1. Breath

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I want Joan to be a vampire but I don't have a plot for that in the slightest  
> Marcus: [clears throat]  
> Marcus: So TAMA right
> 
> Title is from "I Will Follow You Into The Dark" by Death Cab For Cutie

Joan’s more scared than she’s ever been. Her head is already spinning, and well…

The blood isn’t helping.

One of the only people she’s ever loved is bleeding out in front of her, and the smell is what’s overwhelming her. Isn’t that awful? She takes a deep breath.

“Owen,” she’s hunched over him carefully, tears in her eyes, “Owen listen to me, you’re not going to die today.”

“I don’t know about that,” he rasps. “I don’t feel my best, Joan.”

“Owen, just…” another deep breath. “Just stay calm, okay? Save your strength, don’t try to talk.”   
  
“I’m sorry.”   
  
“No, don’t-”   
  
“The uh, smell, must be… hard for you. Sorry.”   
  
She forgets that he knows sometimes, but he knows everything, doesn’t he? Everything about her, at least.

“Owen, it’s-”   
  
“I’m sorry for everything else, too. Just… everything. I’m sorry, Joan.”   
  
“Owen,  _ please _ , just-”   
  
“No… No I have to-” the sound he makes there almost makes her scream, it’s mangled, and pained, and  _ this can’t be happening _ . “Don’t… Don’t have much time, Joan. So, so, sorry.”   
  
“Owen, you’re going to be fine. I promise, you’re-” she’s cut off by her own sobs. And God,  _ why  _ does he have to smell like that?

He cut his hand cooking once when they were dating.

She had to leave the room.

That was the day she told him. He hadn’t even needed too much convincing, they worked with unusual things everyday, and well, It wasn’t exactly hard to prove. He had been so… supportive. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but he was still better.

“I love you, Joan. And I need you to be happy.”   
  
And that’s it.

She knows that’s it.

She can  _ feel  _ him begin to fade out of the room and in that second, thousands of minutes pass.

Time slows down. Thousands of minutes for her to make a decision.

His eyes close and she bends down quickly, she can hear the fainter and fainter beating of his heart. She tries to take a deep breath but barely gasps any air as her mouth meets his neck.   
  
She’s careful about it. She’s never done this before, but she knows how.

He asked her once, when he found out, if she needed to breathe.

She didn’t. She doesn’t. She hasn’t needed to since that night. The night she ‘died’. She found it comforting, though. It helped her stay calm, and it made her feel like she was still human. It was more a habit now than anything, but still a comfort nonetheless.

She told him that, and the same night she’d kissed him until neither of them could breathe.

She doesn’t breathe now.

In the seconds that feel like hours as she stares down at him, not sure it worked,  _ hoping  _ it worked.

She doesn’t breathe.

Until she sees Owen do it.


	2. Light

The sun is streaming through the window and shining down perfectly on her. She looks beautiful and peaceful as she leans over him, kissing him again, except, wait-

“Wait, isn’t- I mean, can’t you not…”   
  
“Hmm?” she asks, caught off guard by the question as she flops herself down on top of him, her head tucked close to his chest.

“Sunlight…”   
  
She laughs a little. “That’s… mostly a myth. I have sensitivities to the sun, sure, but… I’m not about to burst into flames or anything. Mostly it’s just headaches and very easy sunburns.”

“Ah,” he responds, thinking for a moment. “Still…”   
  
“Still?”   
  
He wraps an arm around her and uses the other arm to help himself sit up, turning quickly and effectively switching their positions on the bed as he sprawls himself out over her. “ _ I think  _ I should protect you from the sun.”

She laughs and lifts him up above her with surprising ease. But that’s right, he supposes, vampires are supposed to be strong. He laughs back in response, reaching down to kiss her and she lowers him.

The scene ends with a flash of light, and her laughter is the last thing he hears before he opens his eyes to a dark room.

“Wha... “

He can hear the sound of a person’s heartbeat across the room. God, how loud is this person’s heart? There’s a smell too, one he can’t quite place, but it’s intriguing.

“Finally, you’re awake.”

He exhales through the pounding in his head and… oh. That’s weird. His breaths feel different. They feel… nothing. Breathing gives him nothing but the physical experience of it. That should be alarming. What happened? What’s happening?   
  
“Owen, do you remember what happened?”   
  
Things are flooding back to him, images, feelings, voices. That voice. On a phone call. Saying….

He doesn’t want to talk to her. “Where’s Joan?”   
  
“She stepped out for a minute. Everything that happened was… Very hard on her.”

He wants answers, explanations, and he wants them from  _ Joan _ . Or even from Sam, Mark, Mags, anyone other than her. He’s…. Angry. He’s  _ so angry _ . They were  _ friends _ , at least, he  _ thought _ they were.

“Owen, listen, I can tell you’re mad at me.”

“Yes, I am mad.”   
  
“Owen, I didn’t  _ mean it _ , I- I swear, the second I hung up that phone I got on a jet to Boston I… I thought saying those things… I thought it would protect you.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, so… he doesn’t.   
  
“What… Ellie,” his voice takes a softer tone as he asks. “Why can’t… Why can’t I breathe right?”   
  
He hears her shift uncomfortably. “Do you… do you notice anything else?”   
  
“I can… I can hear your heart beating, Ellie, it’s… it’s so loud.”

She remains quiet.

“What did Joan do?”

He hears her take a deep breath. “Joan… Joan did something impulsive, and serious, and reckless, and… I really don’t know what I would do with myself if she hadn’t.”   
  
“She turned me.”   
  
“Yes. She did.”

He lets the confirmation settle in a minute, and now he’s sure he knows what that smell is. He can smell his friend’s blood running through her veins, and that terrifies him.

The door opens, and a light comes streaming through.

  
He winces.  _ It’s so bright _ .


	3. Life

“Hey,” her voice brings him some form of relief the moment she enters the room, but manages to set him on edge at the same time.

“Hey,” he responds, his voice softening both out of love and out of uneasiness. It’s not how they usually talk, but they’re both a bit too shaken up and  _ scared _ to say much else right away.

She turns to Ellie slowly, “Could you give us…”   
  
“Of course,” she responds as she leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

It’s a relief when the door closes and the light fades away from the room. His eyes are adjusting to the darkness and he can see better now… a lot better. He can see her in perfect detail and is it weird that he’s still taken away by how absolutely beautiful she looks?

No, it’s not. He doesn’t know why this would change anything other than, well… his biology. He’s still in love with her and she still probably couldn’t care less about him.

Except… no. That’s what this changes. She  _ saved  _ him. She took a risk and did something insane in order to save him. That has to mean something.

And now he  _ knows _ she doesn’t entirely hate him.

“I’m sorry,” she sounds so weak. He doesn’t like it.

The room is silent until she speaks, neither of them have heartbeats to hear. She smells different than Ellie and he can’t tell if it’s because she’s  _ her _ or because her blood is different in the same way that his now is.

He can tell where he is now. He’s in what he knows is an AM inpatient room, not a hospital room. A hospital room would have too many lights and monitors to turn off. He suspects the small measures taken to create an element of sensory deprivation in the room is done for his benefit.

“No, don’t… You did what you had to.” She sounds so guilty, he doesn’t want her to sound like that.

“Owen, you’re allowed to be mad at me. You’re allowed to not want this, I… I did something dumb and impulsive and if you aren’t okay with it, that’s okay.”   
  
He takes a deep breath, still getting used to the feel of it. She was right when she told him it was comforting. “I’m… not sure how I feel about this, Joan,” he responds calmly. He’s trying not to freak out.

Because the reality just hit.

“What uh, what exactly does this mean?” He asks, and he doesn’t even realize how vulnerable his voice is until he speaks.

“Well… you can’t exactly be a vegetarian now.”

He hadn’t been a vegetarian, not entirely. He had never made the conscious decision to stop eating meat, but somewhere along the line he had just given it up almost entirely without even intending to.

“You’re going to be a lot stronger. A lot faster. Sensitive to light. Improved senses, that’s… that’s why we’re keeping it dark and quiet in here, it’s… It can be overwhelming the first day, trust me I speak from experience,” she chuckles bitterly, trying to diffuse the tension.

He knows. She told him about her first day.   
  
He looks up at her, waiting for her to voice what she knows is his concern, and when she does, her voice wavers.

“You’re going to live forever.”

And there’s the kicker. That should be the most obvious part, but forgive him for not really being able to fully take that part in.

He had never been able to. Not all those years ago, and not now.

“So you’re just… immortal?” he had asked her the morning after he’d found out, when the initial awe had faded slightly and the reality had set in.

“Yes,” she’d responded, her breath hitching. “Unless someone, you know… stakes me through the heart or something.”

“So that’s not a myth?” He’d questioned, rolling over to wrap his arms around her waist as he’d instantly formed a new fear of wooden stakes, holy water, and garlic being allowed near his girlfriend.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. Not exactly about to take my chances, though.” If he remembers hard enough, he can still feel her fingers carding through his hair like they had that morning. He can still hear her humming to him the way she had when she had continued. “That’s the part that scares me though, living forever.”   
  
And now in the present, he sits before the woman he loves. The woman who’s just passed one of her worst fears onto him.

  
“It wasn’t your time, Owen.”   
  
“But now I’ll never have ‘my time’, will I?”   
  
“No. You won’t. I’m sorry.”   
  
So why the hell does he still feel grateful?


	4. Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild CW in this chapter for referenced assault and near death/being left for dead.

It’s hard to find food in Boston. It’s not like the woods are nonexistent, just a bit out of her way. She already ate while Owen was unconscious. But he just woke up and he’s going to be hungry soon. He’s not ready to hunt yet.

She doesn’t know how he’s going to react to this aspect of the whole vampire thing, she really doesn’t. She’s fairly certain, though, that he won’t be able to really get the hang of it on his own. Not like she did.

Then again, she didn’t have much of a choice. The man who’d grabbed her in an alley one night when she was in grad school and bit her before she could even scream didn’t exactly leave her an instruction manual.

The first day had been the hardest. She woke up in that alley, fading in and out of consciousness. She had shut herself in her apartment, hiding because the sun made her skin crawl. Every little sound and scent around her had been so overpowering, she’d ended up being sick as she stumbled home, people on the street likely thought she was a drunk.

She remembers the unimaginable hunger that came after a few hours. That she couldn’t explain. That she didn’t know how to satisfy.

Owen didn’t seem to be having as hard a time, though, which is good.

Maybe it’s because she wasn’t supposed to survive.   
  
She never really knew for sure if he had intended her to, but she knew that it sure as hell didn’t feel like it. It felt like he was trying to drain her dry, like he  _ had _ . Hell, there couldn’t have been much blood left in her. She remembers beginning to fade out, she remembers being tossed aside like she was dead.

She remembers thinking she was dead. She remembers the panic in those last few seconds before blacking out because she was certain that this was how it was going to end.

But then it didn’t end. She woke up sick, and disoriented, and feeling like every one of her senses was heightened, and she woke up  _ hungry _ .

She probably would have stayed in denial if she hadn’t woken up with fangs. But from there, she figured out pretty quickly what she had to do. She had to adapt.

She reaches the edge of the woods quickly enough, heightened speed and all that. From there it doesn’t take long to find something. She can hear it and she can smell it, something not far.


	5. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for references to vampires feeding from both humans and animals.

“No… No, I can’t. I- I can’t do that, Joan.”   
  
“You have to, Owen. Go on, try and tell me you’re not hungry right now.”   
  
“But you- You eat normal food!”

“ _ Yes _ , I do. But it’s not the same, you  _ know _ that, Owen. You need to eat something or else… or else it’s not going to be good.”

“Can’t I just… only drink  _ some _ of it? Let it live?” She feels bad, because the look on his face is almost pleading at this point.

“I’m sorry. Listen, you need all of it. Besides, you can’t let it live without turning it, and we really can’t have a vampire rabbit just roaming around the city, can we?”

“Can you… can you look away?”   
  
She wants to remark that it’ll be easier if she shows him how, that the first time will be messy, and gross, and  _ hard _ . But she doesn’t. She turns to the other corner of the room and she tries to give him some semblance of privacy.

And once again, she can hear it and smell it. She thinks she can sense Owen’s discomfort, too, though. Which is unusual. She’s been like this for a long time and she doesn’t remember empathy being a part of the whole deal. Maybe she just knows him well enough.

She turns around cautiously once she can tell he’s done. “Are you alright?”   
  
He exhales slowly. “Yeah, I’m… I’m fine.”   
  
He looks so vulnerable right now. She wants to hug him. No, she wants to hold him. She wants to comfort him. She wants to kiss him. She wants to hold him tight and kiss him till he’s happy again, and never, ever, let go.

It’s an urge she hasn’t had in a long time.

“Does it get easier?”   
  
“It does,” she answers honestly as she steps closer.

Eating. That was another thing he’d asked her about the morning after she’d told him. They had been making breakfast.

“So wait,” he’d asked, cracking an egg in the frying pan. “What do you eat?”   
  
“Food,” she’d responded teasingly, taking a bite from a piece of toast and earning a scowl from him because she knew he was saving that.

“You know what I mean.”   
  
She nodded. “I do. I… I eat animals. Rabbits, birds, deer. What I can catch.”

“So you don’t….”   
  
“No. God, of course not.”   
  
“Right, sorry, I was just…. I don’t know how this whole thing works. I mean… can you bite someone without killing them? Or, you know… turning them?”   
  
“I think you can.” She had taken a breath, a reminder that she was a person. “I’ve… I’ve done my research out of curiosity. I’m fairly certain it’s possible. In fact, there have apparently been many known to do it. Vampires that either… drink from strangers without turning them or draining them, or that find a partner or even close friend who doesn’t mind, well… donating to the cause.”

“Do you think that’d be easier?” he’d asked calmly, a tone of healthy curiosity in his voice as he’d reached a spatula into the pan.

“Probably. It’d be more convenient and likely much more filling than hunting small animals where you can find them.”   
  
He didn’t respond and she could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

She’d sighed. “Owen, whatever you’re thinking right now…”   
  
“What? I’m just thinking. If it’d be easier-”   
  
“No.”   
  
“I mean it, I’d be-”   
  
“Owen, I don’t know how to do that.”   
  
“...you don’t?”   
  
She’d rolled her eyes. “In theory, yes. But in practice? I’m not about to take a stupid risk with your life just because it’d make mine a little easier.”

“Right. Okay.” She could still see the smallest hint of curiosity in his eyes when he turned around to face her. God, this man loved her so much, and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t scare her.

“I mean it. I don’t know for sure that I’d be able to do that without hurting you. So…” she’d hummed, trying to shift her tone to something more playful as a distraction. “As delicious as you smell,” she had remarked, really only joking a little, as she’d pressed him up against the counter and stolen a kiss. “I’m just going to have to restrain myself.”

“So…” he’d asked, a smile growing on his face. “Do you even need to eat normal food?”   
  
“No,” she responded calmly. “Not the biggest fan of it either most of the time.”   
  
He cocked his head confusedly. “Then…?”   
  
She took another bite of toast. “I like the things you make for me.”

He’d smiled at that and leaned forward, kissing her.

  
Neither of them had brought that conversation up again, but there were days when she could tell he wanted to. Owen was so devoted to her, still is. He put her needs first so many times and in so many ways. He always thought he could protect her, take care of her the way that no one else ever tried to, and despite everything, she’ll always appreciate him for that.   
  
She watches him rub his eyes a little and pretends not to notice the tears. “What, um… what do I do with…”   
  
Wordlessly, she moves to help him clean up. It’s her turn to be the caring one.


	6. Want

“How are you feeling?” she asks as she wipes his arm with the wet rag in her hand. His shirt is covered in blood, and most of it is still his own. She’s expecting his usual chorus of false reassurances, but-   
  
“Not… not great.”

It’s refreshing to hear him admit it. On impulse she reaches a hand out, squeezing his shoulder supportively.

“Joan?”   
  
“Yes?”   
  
“I… What I said… before I…”   
  
Oh.

She doesn’t want to talk about that, not yet. She doesn't want her head to go back there. She wants to forget watching the light fade from his eyes.

“I meant it. I just…. Whatever makes you happy is what I want.’

“Owen, I-”   
  
“I just wanted you to know that,” he continues quietly. “I love you, Joan.”   
  
And that’s the other reason she doesn’t want to talk about this. She’s afraid of letting her heart take over and do something  _ dumb _ . So now she doesn’t know how to respond.

“You- You don’t have to say anything,” he reassures, reading her mind.

Yes. She does.

“I… I meant what I said too.”   
  
“What-?”

“Forever?”   
  
She loves him too. Despite everything that’s happened, everything he’s done, she does still love him. She’s not sure she ever stopped. She hopes that’s a good enough explanation.

He looks curiously up at her, his surprise shining through in his smile.

That was what she always said. He could only love her as long as he lived, but she would love him forever.

They’re both going to love each other forever now.

He almost laughs as he opens his mouth to respond. “Forever.”   
  
It’s at the top of her list of fears and he’s just circled and underlined it. Forever. Because before, she hadn’t been sure she’d ever be capable of forgiving him. Time heals all wounds, but she wasn’t sure they’d have enough.

They’ve got too much of it now, so what does that mean for them?

She stands from the chair beside his bed. “You need a new shirt.” He glances up at her as she leaves the room. She knows he keeps a spare change of clothes in his office ever since the incident with that pyrokinetic.

She’s back in a minute and he winces a little when she opens the door.

“Here,” she says firmly as she reaches her hand out to help him from the bed. He stands up hesitantly as she sets down the shirt she’d brought back and reaches for the top button on the one he’s wearing.   
  


He blushes slightly. “It’s okay, I’m not that weak, Joan, you- you don’t need to-”   
  
“It’s okay,” she responds coolly, stepping closer as she continues to unbutton his shirt. “As long as you’re okay with it?”

He nods, turning a deeper red as she continues.

This is her own personal experiment.

She’s collecting data, taking note of the way that both of their bodies react. The way that Owen’s face reddens with every button, and the way that she feels shivers down her spine every time her skin accidentally brushes his.

The way that they haven’t broken eye contact yet.

She finishes and he discards his shirt. Then neither of them moves. Neither of them wants to be the one to look away first. She reaches for the washcloth she’d held moments ago without looking away. She presses it carefully to his chest where the blood is now caked dry. The wound looks almost healed, thankfully. Still, he winces a little when she gets too close to it with the rag. Joan doesn’t speak, but shoots him an apologetic look.

She steps closer and they’re practically right up against each other. So long passes without either of them moving, just  _ staring _ at each other.

She wants to kiss him. That’s her hypothesis proven.

She doesn’t kiss him. She turns to pick up the fresh shirt from where she’d set in on the bed, and when she turns back towards him-

Owen moves towards her with more confidence than she’s seen him have in a long time and he’s kissing her before she can entirely process it. She wants, for a second, to pull away. But God, she had forgotten how good kissing him felt.

She kisses him back, stepping closer towards him and letting her arms wrap around him, feeling his bare skin against her arms.

She’s missed him.

And she’s not sure what possessed him to do it, but she’s glad he did.

She just wants a few minutes to feel safe, to let down her guard and melt into him.

It takes literal minutes for her to pull away. Neither of them need to break for air and so they’re simply standing still for a moment, her arms around him and him hunched over a bit to reach her. When she does pull away it’s not completely, she breaks the kiss and wraps her arms around him tighter, burying her head into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Owen breathes. “Was that… that wasn’t…. I’m sorry.”

“No, that was… that was good. Really good.” She doesn’t move from where she is, pressed up against him.

“Oh. Good.”   
  
She feels his hands carding through her hair as they stand for another beat in silence. His skin is cold but she doesn’t mind. She’d never minded. He’s colder now, though.

She presses a small kiss to his chest before they pull apart and she hands him his shirt. He pulls it on quietly and reaches for the buttons before she moves his hands away gently. She buttons up his shirt, this time avoiding eye contact. She looks at him when she’s done, though, reaching up to pop his collar. This earns her an almost laugh from him.

The sound is out of place in the quiet, dreary room, and so it quickly fades, but the smile on his face doesn’t. That smile never seems to be out of place.

That’s another thing she’s missed.


	7. Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired and also working on a playlist for this fic, so hmu with suggestions ig.

Owen’s head is still spinning. Way too many things have happened in the last 24 hours for him to have anything resembling a clear train of thought.

But he knows what  _ shouldn’t _ be the most prevalent thing in his mind.

_ He’d kissed her _ .

That’s not a thing he’d ever thought he’d do.

All these years, he’d been waiting for the day that she’d take him back. The day that she would storm into his office and announce that she was ready to try again, or the day that she would show up at his apartment in the middle of the night professing her love.

He’d change, and she’d decide when he’d changed enough. That was his plan.

But Owen’s just now starting to realize that the most important change he’s made has been learning to rely on his own instincts a bit more. Decide for himself what’s right and wrong.

And in that moment something had felt so terribly  _ wrong  _ about the fact that  _ he wasn’t kissing her _ .

So at the risk of whatever remaining shred of civility she still had towards him, he had finally done what he thought was right.

And from the way she’d responded, maybe his instincts really have improved.

For all that he repeats it, trying to convince the world around him and one person specifically, he really does find it hard to fathom that he’s changed.

But the change is there.

The little differences in his vocabulary, and in his smile, and in the way he holds himself. In the way he thinks and the way he acts, the way he views the world.

He smiles more and he smiles genuinely. He tries to speak what he believes, to be certain of everything he says and does, and to devote himself to the true greater good, not just the greater good of those in charge.

He’s let his loyalty, his devotion, his desire to help others be manipulated. By Rostova, by Ellie, and by everyone else who’s tried to convince him that hurting people was the only way to make the world a better place.

He’s let the good in him be twisted and distorted so many times over that a part of him and forgotten it was there.

Joan is standing in front of him now, her hair is down and her lips are curling into a slight scowl. Anyone else might think she was upset, but he can see the softness tinging her face and he knows her well enough to know that that really is just her default expression.

He also knows that she’s not an angry person. When Joan gets angry, she gets  _ angry _ . She can go from calm to a raging storm of fury within seconds, but at the end of the day, it isn’t who she is. Her anger is not a fundamental piece of her, and no matter how strong she is, when she’s as tired as he knows she is right now, she can never bring herself to be much more than herself.

And that’s one of his favorite parts about loving her. The little glimpses of just...  _ her _ . No metaphorical masks that she wears to please other people, no formalities that she hides behind to give the illusion that she’s in control, no overbearing and unfair emotions that this world has forced onto her.

Because while he’s not dating her anymore, while he’s lost that privilege…. He hasn’t really lost it. He still knows what to look for, and so even on her worst days, the ones where she keeps herself hidden behind anger, or diplomacy, or just plain rudeness, he can see  _ her _ slipping through the cracks.

That’s what love is, he thinks. Being able to see a person, really  _ see  _ them, even when they’re trying so hard not to be seen.

But right now, she isn’t hiding. She’s here in front of him, standing painfully close with an expression that no other person would describe as vulnerable, but that he can without a doubt, because  _ he knows her _ .

He clears his throat. “Um. Joan, can I…”   
  
She smirks a little at that, her eyes meeting his. “Really?  _ Now  _ you’re asking?”

Before he can respond, she’s pulling him down towards her by his shoulders and kissing him again. He wraps his arms around her and decides that maybe he doesn’t need to think right now. At some point he knows that he has to think about everything that’s happened today, but for now he can just… kiss her.

He’s not sure if that’s the healthy thing to do or not, but he’s not sure he cares. He doesn’t want to think.

When she pulls away she’s grinning, practically lighting up the dark room.

And he knows he’s changed, but maybe this is how he has to come to terms with the fact that she’s changed too. A different version of her wouldn’t have kissed him like this, wouldn’t have smiled for him like this

The old Joan wouldn’t have indulged herself. Wouldn’t have let herself be as relieved as he can tell she is if it meant complicating their already messy relationship.

In the three years since their lives fell apart, they’ve both changed. If she was the head and he was the heart, it took three years apart to realize that they each needed to grow one of their own.

“Where are the others?” he asks her. As much as he loves her and, though he’s reluctant to admit it, Ellie, he’s now begun to realize that if he hasn’t spoken to anyone else yet, there’s likely a reason.

“They’re all at Sam’s house. They wanted to stay and wait for you to wake up but… well, they all needed rest and it’s not like anyone besides Sam and Mark will really even understand what…” she ends the sentence by clearing her throat, and he knows it’s because there are really so many ways she could end it. What happened, what she did, what he became,  _ what they are _ .

He nods in response, his face falling just a little.

“You can talk to them later, I’m sorry, Owen. We all need some time to adjust right now.”   
  
“Right,” he nods. “What- What time is it?”   
  
“Sometime in the afternoon,” she responds, exhaling sharply.   
  
He has to take a minute to fully consider how he’s feeling. And that’s right, he’s supposed to be adjusting, isn’t he? “Can you… turn the light on?

She gives him a cautious look before approaching the light switch.

They used to watch the sunrise together. They used to sit out on his balcony, wrapped up in old blankets in the same position every day. Her tucked up against his side with her head leaning on his shoulder and his head on hers.

They would kiss and hold each other, and she would shield her eyes ever so slightly as the sun rose.

She would never fully look away, though. According to her, some things were just worth squinting through.

Joan flips on the light while still gazing back at him.

It’s blinding. He needs to cover his eyes instantly. “Don’t… Don’t turn it off,” he says, a cautious tone in his voice as he attempts to open his eyes slowly.

She doesn’t. Instead she steps closer to him, watching as he lets himself collapse onto the bed in a sitting position.

He feels the weight of the bed shift as she settles in next to him, waiting a moment before tucking herself into his side and gently placing her head on his shoulder. Eyes still closed, he lets his head fall to rest against hers. One of those habits they never really forgot, he supposes.

He opens his eyes slowly, and the room still feels like it’s blinding him. No, like it’s  _ burning  _ him. Like his eyes are threatening to catch fire at any second, and blinking repeatedly, he finds, is only somewhat assuaging the pain. But the warmth of Joan’s body next to his is something he always finds to be a welcome distraction.

He’s adding that to the list of things that he wouldn’t have the pleasure of had Joan not changed in the past three years. Had she not taught herself to be softer with the world and with herself, had she not come to allow herself some happiness. He wonders how much she’ll change in the coming years.

The  _ many _ coming years, he realizes.

She’s going to grow and change over an eternity, and if he’s lucky, he’s going to witness it. But if in three years they’ve grown enough for their lives to be able to intertwine this comfortably once again…. who’s to say where they’ll be an eternity down the line?

His heart soars a little as he comes to realize that an eternity is more than enough time for a second chance.

Oh. That’s it.

That’s why he feels grateful.

**Author's Note:**

> So a big reason why I don't usually leave comments is that it doesn’t feel like a conversation, it feels too definite. So, as opposed to asking you to leave comments (which I do still very much appreciate and will respond to if that’s your thing), I’m going to let you know how to contact me!
> 
> Instagram: whats_a_terrarium  
> Discord: whats_a_terrarium#0251  
> Tumblr: whats-a-terrarium  
> Twitter: whatsaterrarium
> 
> If you have any thoughts, ideas, constructive criticism, or just want to ramble, never hesitate! :)


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